


The proof is in our hands

by blackm00n5



Series: Our life in Letters [4]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angstier than intended, Christopher Diaz Has Two Dads, Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Survivor Guilt, starts soft and gets angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackm00n5/pseuds/blackm00n5
Summary: Human beings were made to be together, to hold one another. Buck tells this to Eddie one night.Then, when a call goes wrong and they lose someone? Eddie reminds him.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Our life in Letters [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854250
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	The proof is in our hands

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ This spawned from that Tarlos scene where they're holding hands as TK apologizes and I had a wave of "Holding hands is so fucking romantic and humans were made to hold hands'' and somehow I ended up with this??
> 
> Takes place sometime between the third and fourth notes from the first fic. After the camo moose but before the 'our family' note.
> 
> Please let me know if I've missed a tag!

Being a single father meant plans changed often. He had to be adaptable, he had to know how to change on a moment's notice to make sure his priority was taken care of, to make sure Chris got what he needed. And being the single father of a child with a significant medical condition made it even more crucial to be able to change any and all plans. And Eddie was lucky, in that regard. His service in the military had adaptability ingrained in his head. He was trained to accept that everything could go wrong at any minute and to be prepared to alter course to deal with it. And as a firefighter it was vital as well. If plan A didn't work, they needed plan B through Z locked and loaded to go. Eddie was used to his adaptability being needed in extreme cases, in a war zone or when a life was on the line. 

So leaving the big team hang out early because Christopher has a fever? Easy. 

California springs were nice. Warm enough to spend the evening outside but cool enough to wear a long sleeved shirt comfortably. Christopher had been lethargic for most of the day, but he had insisted he was eager to go, eager to play with his friends. And Christopher getting tired and heavy limbed wasn’t exactly uncommon. If he pushed himself one day, then the next he was often sore and tired. And he had certainly enjoyed himself, smiling brightly and keeping up with the other kids. So, a long day of play outside meant that when he had curled up against Eddie’s side as the sun began to set, Eddie wasn’t surprised. 

What did surprise him, however, was when he went to move and Christopher made a soft, whining type of noise. Curling closer, his little hand bunching up in Eddie’s shirt to keep him there. Immediately, Eddie was on alert. Christopher didn’t whine, often. He didn’t complain, and he liked to be as independent as possible. So Eddie’s attention was immediately taken. He shifted, carefully reaching to pull Chris into his lap and completely abandoning the conversation he’d been having with Karen. He knew she’d understand, she would have done the same with her own children. Chris made another soft noise, curling entirely into him without opening his eyes. 

“Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?” Eddie asked, keeping one arm wrapped around Chris and letting his other hand lift up to brush Christopher’s hair back. His face seemed flushed, but considering the setting sun casting an orange-red glow over them, Eddie couldn’t be sure. 

“Don’t feel good.” Chris grumbled, nuzzling into Eddie. Eddie’s lips pressed together, then he brushed his knuckles over Christopher’s temple. 

“Buck,” He called out, barely looking up. “Am I being a paranoid dad or does he feel warm to you?” 

Eddie looked up when Buck’s shadow fell over them. Buck knelt down in front of Eddie, leaning in with one hand braced on the cushion Eddie was sitting on and his other hand sweetly brushing Christopher’s hair back. For a brief moment, Eddie was confused. Buck’s touch to Chris’ head was brief, too brief to really tell if his skin felt too warm. But before he had the time to mention it - though what he’d even say, he had no idea - Buck leaned the rest of the way in and pressed his lips firmly to Christopher’s forehead.

And all at once, Eddie’s chest went tight. He felt those butterflies erupt deep in his gut, completely overwhelmed by the image of Buck easily and simply leaning into his son. Kissing his head to check his temperature. And the way Christopher’s brow smoothed just a bit, the way he relaxed under Buck’s attention. Comforted by the presence of this man who was so embedded into their lives that Eddie could hardly remember what it was like without him. 

That pleasant feeling, however, was quickly squashed when Buck’s lips pressed together and his brows furrowed with worry. 

“Yeah, he feels pretty warm.” He confirmed, his hand lingering in Chris’ hair as he looked up to meet Eddie’s gaze. 

Eddie nodded, turning his attention back to his son. Christopher’s eyes were still shut, but he was tilting into the way Buck’s thumb brushed gently over his temple. Seemed comforted by the way he was settled down between them, which meant Eddie already felt bad about how he was going to have to get up. 

As if reading his mind, as soon as Eddie began to move, Buck moved to meet him. Buck carefully gathered Christopher up into his arms, softly cooing to him to soothe him when the movement caused Chris’ face to scrunch up. 

“I gotcha’ superman, it’s okay.” Buck said softly, holding Chris against his shoulder. 

“Can you-” Eddie began, and Buck shook his head in a way that gave the distinct impression that he was waving him off despite how his arms were wrapped firmly around Chris. 

“I got him, get your stuff.” He said. 

Edde got through his goodbyes and apologies for leaving early - which were met by the understanding chastisement from the other parents gathered around - and collected his and Christopher’s belongings. Buck followed him out to the jeep, carefully rocking Chris as he tried to soothe his discomfort. Once Chris was set up in the car, half dozed off, Eddie turned to smile at Buck. 

“Thanks.” He said, even though it felt hollow and empty. Not enough. Not nearly enough for everything Buck did, for the way Buck seemed to know exactly what they needed and offering it so easily. The same empty, inadequate feeling Eddie got every time he thanked Buck. 

But Buck just smiled at him, eager and bright and warm, so eager to give everything and anything to the world around him. He shrugged a bit, then reached to shove gently at Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Course. Go on, super dad, take care of your kid.” He said, a softness to his teasing tone that made Eddie’s stomach twist and tie up. 

Eddie didn’t have the chance to linger on it, much. As soon as he was seated in his car, his focus was entirely on taking care of Christopher. Getting him home, making sure he was comfortable. He hated when Chris got sick. Hated that his son could feel so bad and not even know  _ what _ exactly is wrong. Eddie hated being so limited in what he could actually do for him, in those moments. Eddie hated feeling helpless, and he never felt as helpless as when his son was sick because so much of it was entirely out of his hands. Entirely out of his control. All he could do was try to ease his discomfort as his body healed.

It didn’t take Eddie too long to get Christopher settled. Coaxing him into drinking some ice water, getting a child’s tylenol into him to try to encourage the fever to break and getting him comfortable into bed. Eddie sat at the edge of the bed, carefully removing Chris’ glasses to set them aside before reaching to lovingly brush his hand through Chris’ hair. 

Chris seemed to be dozing when Eddie heard his front door push open. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, it really shouldn’t have been. He should have known the moment he said he was leaving Bobby and Athena’s that Buck wouldn’t be far behind. Because that’s who Buck was, it’s what he did. He offered help that Eddie sometimes didn’t even realize he needed. 

Eddie pushed to his feet, leaning over to kiss Chris’ head. He shut the light off, and made sure to leave the door cracked so he could hear anything he might be needed for. When he made his way into the kitchen, there was a twelve pack of beer on his counter and Buck was busy putting two big bottles of gatorade into the fridge. 

“How’s he holding up?” Buck asked as he turned away from the fridge, before Eddie could speak because Buck knew what he would say. He knew Eddie would try to tell him he didn’t need to come here, that he should have stayed with the others and have a good time. And Eddie knew exactly what Buck would say in response. 

_ Hanging out with my Diaz boys  _ **_is_ ** _ a good time.  _

Eddie debating saying it, anyway. But he knew it was pointless. Buck was stubborn, and once he’d made his mind up, he was not easily swayed. And Eddie knew it was selfish, but he was happy to have Buck here with him. So he slumped a bit, letting the tension bleed out of him as he reached for the beer Buck was already pulling out of the box. Buck handed it over easily, and Eddie thoroughly ignored the way their fingers brushed together. 

“He’ll be alright. He isn’t nauseous, which is good. There was a bug going around school almost two weeks ago, he might just be late in picking it up.” He said with a little sigh, popping the cap on the bottle. Buck nodded, grabbing another one of the beers for himself as he made his way around the counter. 

“Good. I brought his favorite gatorade, he’ll need it once he wakes up, and water gets boring.” He offered a little grin. “C’mon. We’ve got beer, multiple streaming services, and the better part of the night waiting for us.” 

Eddie smiled, doing his best to ignore how his chest tightened up. 

* * *

Christopher’s fever broke at almost two in the morning. It hadn’t been too high, to begin with, but Eddie knew better than to assume this was the end of it. But, for now, Christopher was sleeping soundly and he didn’t think he’d need to worry much about him waking up any time soon. And Eddie was tired, but still a little too keyed up from the past few hours of constantly checking on Chris, looking in on him and making sure he took at least a small drink every time his discomfort forced him awake. 

He collapsed on the couch beside Buck just in time for the credits of the lame horror movie they had put on to begin. Buck was not drunk. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to drink that much when there was a chance he might be needed. But he wasn’t sober, either. His eyes a little glassy, his body languid and heavy against the couch cushions. There was something almost soft about him, like this. Something vulnerable and Eddie was so tempted to reach out and brush his fingers through Buck’s hair. 

“Think he’s going to sleep through the rest of the night.” Eddie confirmed, lifting one of his legs up to rest his foot on the coffee table. Buck hummed, swirling the last sip of his beer before handing the bottle over to Eddie. 

“Want what’s left?” He asked, nose scrunching up slightly. 

Content that he’d not have to worry about going and checking on Christopher as often, now, Eddie nodded and reached for the bottle. His fingers brushed over Buck’s, the contact making his skin light up in a way he wasn’t going to examine. He took that last sip, tilting his head back to drain the bottle, and when he looked back at Buck again he noticed that Buck’s hand was still outstretched. 

Buck was staring at his hand, thoughtful in that way he was when it was too late at night and he was too many drinks in to pretend he wasn’t thinking. That pensive look he got when his brain was running a hundred miles a minute, and he was trying to process his own thoughts. Eddie loved that expression, he loved hearing whatever inevitably would come out Buck’s mouth because it felt like such a blatant show of trust. That Buck would tell him the strange ideas he came up with that Buck seemed to think were meaningless but that made Eddie fall more and more in love with him. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Eddie asked, leaning forward to place the empty bottle on the coffee table. Buck blinked, then looked up from his hand to Eddie. 

“Hands are weird.” He said, voice even and serious as ever. Eddie couldn’t help the grin that tugged across his face, and he raised a brow as he shifted to sit sideways on the couch, one arm up on the backrest so he was facing Buck entirely. 

“Think I need some more context there, Buck.” He said. Buck immediately moved to mirror Eddie, holding his hand up with his fingers spread. 

“Maybe weird isn’t the right word,” He began, meeting Eddie’s gaze. It felt intimate, intense in a way Eddie was desperate for. “But it...from a purely objective point a view, hands are not at all an intimate part of the body, right?” 

Eddie nodded once, eyes flicking to Buck’s hand briefly before meeting his gaze again. He still wasn’t quite sure where this was going, but he had no doubt Buck would continue to explain. He had no doubt that Buck  _ wanted _ to explain. Buck wiggled his fingers a bit, and Eddie did his best to ignore how cute it was. 

“But it...they’re one of the most intimate places on a person.” He continued, brows furrowing a bit. 

“Not sure I follow.” Eddie said, his own brows furrowing as well. Buck licked at his lips, then nodded a bit. 

Buck reached forward, grabbing Eddie’s wrist. Eddie let him move him, guide him until their hands were pressed together and Eddie’s chest was so tight he was sure his heart was leaving impressions on his shirt. 

“Hands shouldn’t be intimate. But when we’re...scared and need comfort we hold hands. When people make promises, they link their pinkies together. Did you know there was a study done where they proved people recognize when it was a spouse or a stranger holding their hand? It...when a person needs another person, they grab their hand.” Buck explained, still staring at Eddie, their hands still pressed together between them. Eddie swallowed thickly.

“Of course, it’s the easiest way to grab each other.” He said, and Buck’s eyes snapped back to his.

“And that’s just it, isn’t it?” He said, earnest, so damned earnest, like Eddie was just on the cusp of getting his point. “Our hands fit together, Eddie. Hands link together in dozens of different ways. They fit together like they were made specifically to do it. Human beings evolved to be able to hold onto one another. We were made to be able to connect to one another and the proof is in our hands.” 

As Buck spoke, he moved his hand just slightly. Moving until he was able to curl his fingers, linking them into the spaces between Eddie’s own fingers. Eddie felt his breath catch in his throat, and he hesitated before his own hand curled into Buck’s, as well. Holding on because Buck was letting him, was straight out requesting it, initiating the contact himself like he did so often. Buck was a tactile person, knocking shoulders and sitting too close and invading Eddie’s space until Eddie forgot how it felt to be lonely, anymore. Buck sought out physical contact and Eddie might have been too afraid to ask for it but he was more than happy to return it when offered. 

The conversation veered off, after that. Settling back into something less existential and more light hearted. Judging the episode and a half of some true crime show they watched as the buzz left their bodies. By the time they shut the television off and headed down towards the bedroom, Buck seemed to have completely forgotten his own little speech and Eddie was still listening to it bounce around in his head. Was still thinking about the way Buck’s hand had fit into his own as he stared at the stuffed moose sitting proudly on his bureau and Buck pulled on a pair of pajama pants.

“You gonna’ sleep?” Buck asked when Eddie had spent too much time just staring at the moose. Eddie shook his head, trying to shake the longing away. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming, calm down.” He said, waving Buck off. 

They fell asleep on opposite ends of the bed, just like they always did. 

* * *

Eddie knew he was not going to be able to forget that little speech of Buck’s. He couldn’t forget it if he tried because it encapsulated who Buck was. He thrived on human contact, was so eager to be loved and to love in return. He offered himself selflessly to those around him, offered his hand to anyone and everyone who might need it. Of course he’d be the one to say humans were made to hold onto one another. And Eddie agreed with him, people were at their best surrounded by the other people that they loved.

Regardless, while Eddie had certainly not forgotten, he had more or less put it on the back burner. If he didn’t, he’d never be able to function. And it stayed there, hovering in the background, just under the surface for over a week. 

And then they got a bad call.

Bad calls happened, of course they did. It was the nature of their job, they responded to emergencies, to tragedies. And sometimes, even when they did everything right, it wasn’t enough. People ended up dead despite their best efforts. And those losses were always the worst on whoever was right beside them. Whoever had been actively trying to help that person was always the one most destroyed by the loss, was always the one who felt it the most. 

And this time, that person was Buck. 

She was an elderly woman. Her lungs and heart already weak, her body needing to fight twice as hard against the smoke and heat. People liked to pretend that that made it easier, liked to say that it was better when the victim was elderly. She had lived a long life, she’d been fulfilled with her family and career and all the blessings she’d been given. But it wasn’t true. It was never true, because no lost life was any easier to handle. Every death was someone who deserved more time but lost it, and it always felt like it was their fault despite how they knew it was mostly awful, awful circumstance. 

Buck had been the one to carry this fragile old woman out of the burning building. He had been the one to press the oxygen mask to her face as he held her hand tightly in his. Pressing the back of her hand to his chest, over his own heart. Their hands linked together, Buck holding on tightly as he softly spoke to her. Encouraged her to keep going. She had smiled at him when her eyes fell shut. And all Eddie could think about as he watched Buck try to force her heart back into rhythm was how easily she had taken Buck’s hand. How their hands had locked together so naturally. 

Exactly like they were supposed to.

He stayed quiet on the drive back to the station, and the others knew better than to try to disrupt that, just yet. He needed time to grieve, to come to terms with it. And he would, they all always did. It was never easy, it was never pleasant, but it was something they all went through and they all knew the best thing they could do for him was be available if he needed them. 

When Buck quietly made his way to the showers, Eddie went to the kitchen. He paused, eyes locking onto the pack of post it notes that were still on the counter, left over from the ‘good morning’ note he’d found left for him on the coffee pot. He made his way over to the counter, touching the pen still laid beside the pack, lips pressing together. Before he really had time to process his own movements, he was scrawling across the paper. 

He stood there and stared at his own writing for a long moment. He had a pile of notes Buck had written him, neat in his top drawer. Plus the three that he kept in his wallet. Would it make Buck feel as good as it made him feel? Would this help him the way it helped Eddie? There was a note on Buck’s secret stash of macaroni and cheese, but to Eddie’s knowledge, he hadn’t found it yet. It was hard for Eddie to be open, like this. To offer comfort with words. It had always been easiest for him with action. 

Because while taking what he wanted had always been difficult for him, as far as touch went, Eddie had never had a hard time in giving it when he knew someone needed it. Holding someone’s hand or hugging someone close simply because he wanted them was difficult. Awkward. It made him feel too vulnerable, too raw. But holding someone against his chest as if he could protect them from whatever was hurting just by pressing them close? As if he could shield them from their own emotions with his body? Squeezing the back of Buck’s neck when someone was coming on a little too strong and he was too nice to say no, holding Christopher to his chest after a nightmare? It was much different, much easier, when he was being a protector. 

Eddie swallowed thickly, then scrunched the note up in his hand and shoved it into his pocket, instead. 

* * *

Buck got invited to Eddie’s house after most shifts, it was such a default that instead of Eddie telling him to come over, he had to specify when Buck couldn’t. But shifts like this, it was different. Eddie told Buck he should come over. He used that very specific tone of voice he used when he knew he didn’t need to explain to Buck what he meant. Deliberately, very pointedly making sure he knew it was not a suggestion. Casual in the way that was very much not casual because Eddie knew he couldn’t be alone, right now, but that pointing it out would be too much to handle. That laying it out in the open right away would leave Buck too broken and raw and the careful control he had on himself, at the moment, would shatter.

So Buck just nodded dumbly, offering a weak smile that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. He promised to pick up food on the way back, insisting Eddie go right home to see his son, and he had floated through the rest of his shift in a daze. Eddie had clapped him on the shoulder as they were leaving, offering the soft smile of his that always made Buck’s chest go tight and saying he’d see him soon. A quiet, gentle push to remind Buck not to isolate the way he so often did. Trying not to push his problems onto the people he cared about because they had their stuff to worry about. 

Buck hated the idea of being a burden on Eddie, but Eddie never made him feel like he was. 

He was still in a bit of a haze when he pulled up to Eddie’s house with two boxes of Pizza on his passenger seat, but even just pulling up was enough to clear the fog just a bit. Enough that he’d be able to smile, that he’d be able to tell Christopher he’d be okay and know it wasn’t a lie. 

When he stepped inside, he could hear the water down the hall. He placed the pizza boxes down on the counter, making his way down to hall to lean in Christopher’s doorway. Chris looked up from his book - school reading, if Buck were to guess. He was certain he’d seen that book title on the reading list. - when the light shifted and the way he beamed at Buck was enough for that dull ache to ease up just a bit more.

“Hey superman.” Buck greeted him. “Want pizza now or wait for dad?” 

“Let’s wait for dad.” Christopher said, nodding firmly. Buck grinned at him, and nodded once. 

“Alright. I’m gonna go get changed, then.” He said, and Christopher hummed in that way he did to let Buck know he heard, and turned his attention back to his book. 

Buck lingered in the doorway a moment longer before pushing off to continue down the hall. Eager to get out of his jeans and into something more comfortable, something less constricting because it felt like everything was being crushed and he wanted even the slightest bit of release from it. He had a drawer of stuff, here. Just like Eddie and Christopher had a drawer at his place. That helped, knowing he could come here and be surrounded by this family that he could help, that he  _ had _ helped. That this was a place he belonged even when he felt like he had failed.

Eddie’s light was already on, a habit of his that drove Buck mad. Just like Buck knew Eddie would go crazy when Buck inevitably shut it off before Eddie was out of the shower. He shook his head, starting for the bureau to grab some sweatpants. He paused, though, when he saw a crinkled, yellow post it dropped beside Eddie’s wallet. 

And that caused a weird mix of emotion to burst into Buck’s chest. On the one hand, the little post it was left on the bureau. It wasn’t thrown out or left behind at the station or ripped up. Eddie had kept the little post it note. But on the other hand? It was...well. All crumpled up. As if Eddie had gotten angry and clamped his hand around it. 

Buck reached to grab the note, carefully straightening it out. He was trying to figure out what exactly he was feeling when he realized that it wasn’t his hand writing staring at him. Buck blinked once, then twice, but it was still undeniably Eddie’s handwriting spread across that post it. Buck’s head tilted slightly, and he lifted it a bit so he could actually read it. 

_ She died the way we were made to. Holding onto someone who cared. _

Buck’s body went tense, his breath caught as his throat and chest clamped up. All of the pain he’d been holding back all day crashed over him all at once, tears stinging the backs of his eyes as he stared down at the note. He still wasn’t sure what he was feeling, it hurt in ways he couldn’t put words too and he was angry with no one to aim it at and he didn’t have a word to describe what it all was. 

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice cut through the static in Buck’s head, and suddenly everything was silent.

Buck swallowed thickly, turning his head to look at Eddie. Eddie lowered the towel he’d been using to dry his hair off, stepping slowly into his room. Taking the time to examine Buck, take in the way his shoulders were trembling and tears were shining in his eyes. The note in his hands. The silence dragged on for a moment, Buck unable to make a sound and Eddie not sure what to say. After too long in that quiet, Eddie licked at his lips and took another step forward. He carefully placed his towel down on the edge of the bed. He took a slow breath, then nodded once.

“She died.” He said, and Buck felt it like a punch in the gut. “She died and it was awful. It was so, so awful. But it wasn’t your fault. And I know that doesn’t make it feel better, right now. It might never make it feel better, but it’s true. And I’d bet anything she would agree with me.” 

“Eddie-” Buck began, his voice cracking harshly and he didn’t even know what he meant to say aside from some sort of objection. But Eddie held a hand up, silencing him with a look. 

“She saw you, Buck. She _ felt  _ you there. She held onto you, she found comfort in you. You made this terrible, awful thing just a little bit better for her. And that is just as important as the lives we  _ are _ able to save.” 

Buck reached a hand up, clamping it over his mouth as he tried to keep from outright sobbing. Trying so hard to keep quiet because he didn’t want Christopher to hear. He didn’t want Christopher to see him like this. He tried so hard to be strong for him, to keep control of his own emotions because Christopher certainly didn’t deserve to have to shoulder his burdens on top of his own.

Eddie took one last step forward, leaving just a foot or two between them, and he held his hand out.

“So come on. Humans were made to comfort by holding onto each other.” Eddie finished, voice firm in that gentle and loving way of his. 

Buck shut his eyes as he dropped the note onto the bureau and reached to take Eddie’s hand. He struggled to breathe steady, to keep from losing it entirely as his hand shook in Eddie’s. Gripping too tightly, like he was afraid Eddie’s touch was the only thing left holding him in one piece. It felt like Eddie was the only thing keeping him in one piece. 

So Buck cried, that night. Just like anyone on the team would have. And Eddie held him through it, their fingers linked together until Buck felt like he could exist in the present, once more. They ate their pizza and listened to Christopher explain how he learned about volcanoes in science and by the time they put Christopher to bed, Buck felt like he could take a proper breath. 

And when the exhaustion finally caught up to them and Buck and Eddie crawled into bed, for the first time they fell asleep tangled up together.


End file.
